


Ashes

by Limanya



Category: Cytus (Video Game)
Genre: monster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limanya/pseuds/Limanya
Summary: When there’s smoke, send in the fire-resistant one.After all, Phoenixes are supposed to symbolize life, aren't they?(Takes place in Rayark Monster AU.)





	Ashes

Viz arrives fairly late at the scene - the flames surrounding him are making his wings light up, far brighter than they usually are. He sees the humans who were fast enough but not quite, the humans who rush out of their blazing homes only to succumb to the flames nonetheless.

Most of all, however, he sees the look on their faces. That particular look, directed at none other than the Phoenix himself. Of course - he is the one with the burning wings, after all. He did this. Who else could they blame in their final moments?

Viz, like every phoenix, can resurrect himself, rise and be born anew, ashes into flames. The story goes that phoenixes aren't merely the selfish creatures that human beings make his kind - the winged folk - out to be; their gift could be bestowed upon humans, too. It's a tale he's heard more often from the wingless than his own.

But their dying breath shapes itself into curses, curses directed at the being of flame. Leiv had pleaded with him to go help, to do whatever he could, but what could he do? What did she expect him to do, add more fire? A lingering resentment is drawn out once more. A phoenix could never want to save something as despicable as a human. And though it is expected of him, he cannot bring out that power. He walks through the streets, but nothing happens. They keep burning. They keep dying.

Who are luckier? Those who were charred in their deep sleep, or those who escaped just in time? Probably the former - not a single person had successfully made the escape yet. It's a small town, but a tight-knit one, and so are its buildings. Run out of one flame, and land in another. But one, single person seems to have a chance.

...No, upon closer inspection, he does not. He is a young human boy - an age at which he already had been made to fight (If he wanted, humans just like him). Yes, it is true that he is not on fire right now, but it seems like that doesn't matter much, what with the state he is in. The wounds are numerous. It doesn't seem like he'll survive long. What a shame.

But the boy cries out. It is not like the wailing that has accompanied his walk through the town, it is not like their last desperate expressions of pain. It's not that he doesn't seem pained, though - quite the opposite - but he seems very, very afraid.

Not of Viz. That's a first - you'd think they want to get away from the flames. No, it is this painful, exhausting, choking desperation. It is not the smoke that poisons their lungs, it is the lead atmosphere, one no human can bear the weight of.

He's crying.

"Please," the first word he stammers out goes. Has he been screaming, or is it the smoke clinging onto him from the inside? He approaches the Phoenix, his step stumbling.

As thin as the boy is, even that is becoming too much for him to carry. Perhaps the least Viz can do for him is catch him as he falls. Now, he speaks again: "Please, please." Please what? 

"Please help me, I'm scared and I don't want to die." That's not exactly what he says, if he says anything at all. Between the roaring of the flames and the clouding of his thoughts, obscuring everything, Viz is struggling to keep his attention in one place. But it's close enough.

As their gazes finally meet, Viz knows what he has to do.

~*~

It is said of harpies that they possess an innate ability to always find the way back to their nest, no matter how far. Viz knows about that, too, but he refuses to use it - his birth nest is of no importance to him right now. It’s a memory, one that is irrelevant to the situation. No, what he needs to do is get back to the harpy’s village as soon as possible.

It’s not far. Had it been, he would never be standing here as he did. When there’s smoke, send in the fire-resistant one. At any other time, he’d find it amusing. Scouting to see whether the fire was going to pose any danger to his kind was trouble for nobody - as long as they were high enough, none of the flames could even approach them, but entering the inferno was something only a phoenix could do.

There had been a couple too many years of peace. At this rate, he was getting too soft, far too soft - it was either Leiv’s saddened look as she pleaded with him, or one of few things he could still confide in, her tactical genius. Either way, it sure would’ve been nice if he wasn’t the only phoenix around. Because the least she could do was come along.

Ironically, the phoenix had only ever had experience with death. From the many battlefields he’d set foot on to the burning remains of the village he just left behind him, the signature ability his clan was known for remained entirely new. Perhaps he’d been right: he never found anyone truly deserving of being brought back. 

It worked this time, though.

He still can’t figure out why. Was it, once again, Leiv, and the pressure he felt to succeed? For an immortal fire bird, he could get surprisingly serious in those kinds of situations. Then again, it wasn’t much of a surprise for someone who’d been raised for no purpose other than to win - for whatever side he was on for the time.

Or perhaps it was the boy himself. It was funny, really. Viz knew nothing about him, other than that he surely had been a - now former - resident of the village. He was young, an age Viz couldn’t quite recognize; humans aged at a pace entirely alien to that of harpies, and during those times when he had fought alongside those wingless people, none had quite been as young - save for perhaps himself, once upon a time.

Whatever it was, it had saved the kid. When Viz looks down, it is his face greeting him - admittedly, he is most likely unaware. He’d been given the chance to live once more, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’ll immediately recover. Most of his wounds had vanished, but the now-unconscious boy would be in for a surprise: they had instead made way for what began as two red spots that simply refused to heal, where now the little beginnings of two wings - like his own - were sprouting.

No one ever told Viz about that part.

Then again, it was a logical conclusion. Of all the beings in the world, humans stood somewhere near the bottom were they to be ranked according to innate magic, and a peasant boy like him was unlikely to be trained in any ancient arcane arts. His body could not deal with that much energy, and it had to go somewhere - so why not go according to the wishes of the phoenixes?

Bearing such a fragile load, Viz dared not take to the skies. What would he say? “Nevermind that corpse in the woods, and nevermind those wings?” He’d gone all in, and quitting now was no option. So he had to walk.

Perhaps it was for the better. He could pay attention to the child this way. Since collapsing right there in Viz’ arms, he hadn’t woken up - but it was clear the the boy was alive, and at this moment, more than ever. And while it took young harpies the better part of their childhood for them to develop their wings, he had quite some catching up to do: Viz would blink, and yet another layer of feathers had appeared.

While he walks, he stares at them. They’re golden, a color fairly rare among harpies, and yet not quite. Fading in and out every once in a while is a subtle glow, coming from underneath or perhaps between - Viz does not know what it could mean, other than excess phoenix magic, or something like it. But it reminds him of the flickering of fire.

Yet even the most powerful form of healing imaginable seems to have done its duty already, as it will not extend its reach to the boy’s newfound wings. The bone breaking through was bad enough already; whenever a feather comes through now, it is stained with blood. Only those Viz had wiped clean - a task he now decided to leave to Leiv, or any other willing harpies at hope - showed what colors laid underneath. But they were beautiful, and it was a task worth doing. Just not right now.

Viz sighs. He can already predict what will happen once he enters his village: the harpies telling him to leave the boy behind, he’s a human after all, they can’t know we’re here. But they’d be wrong. He shoots the boy one more glance - practically all features that belong to harpies, not humans, he has, perhaps aside from the unusual positioning of his wings. Well, it seems they’d be able to function nonetheless, so it’s not that big of a deal then, is it?

He’s there.

From the outside, he can certainly see why the village lives on as it does. It blends in near-perfectly with the deceptively harsh surroundings, and the chance of entering it - or even finding it - is much greater from the air than the ground. Humans could come here, if they wanted. Most of them just weren’t determined enough.

Pushing aside a number of annoyingly placed branches, while still shielding the boy with his body - _why was he being so protective?_ \- Viz enters the village. Most harpies are going on with their life as usual, but those who haven’t yet forgotten the sight that is a massive pillar of smoke rising up from the woods gaze at him, anticipation in their eyes.

Nobody says anything. Well, nobody says anything audible. They’re muttering to each other, wondering what it could be that Viz brought back to the village. Was it a stray harpy, one of them who had gone to the humans and paid its price? That couldn’t be - all the harpies here knew each other, they knew where everyone was. Had someone left, they’d long known about it.

At the far end of the village, the commotion draws Leiv out. In the light of what now is morning, her pristine wings shine brightly, immediately drawing attention to her elegant figure. To Viz, though, she’s not much more than a battle companion. Sure, the harpies follow a certain hierarchy - in the end, though, he’ll be the one to survive.

Passing the countless eyes watching them, Viz draws near to the siren. If there is anyone who can help right now, it is her, and even then, knowing Leiv is taking care of the situation would surely calm down the other harpies.

Not speaking a word, she beckons Viz to come in, and he obeys.


End file.
